We visited the Holocaust Museum six years ago, but I can still smell the hoard of shoes taken from victims: worn leather and sweat; thousands of footsteps cut short.
They took their glasses, too.
Their watches and jewelry.
Their wallets.
Their hair.
Their dignity.
It’s easy to disassociate from the ugliness. It’s easy to say, “It’s not my loved ones. It’s not happening. This isn’t really happening.”
But it is happening.
Again.
Families are being pull apart.
People -children…God, children…are being stripped of their dignity: no soap, no toothbrushes, tinfoil blankets and a cement bed, no comfort, no love.
Is this who we are?
They started as work camps.
They ended as death sentences.
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